


a star is born

by theglitterati



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Babies, Kidfic, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: The birth of Koutarou and Keiji's first child and the journey that brought them there.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	a star is born

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auravere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auravere/gifts), [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts), [frogparties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogparties/gifts).



> Hi everyone! This work was inspired by all of the lovely Bokuaka baby art on Twitter lately, particularly by [Enn](https://twitter.com/_enn0s/status/1360059564826255360?s=20), [Fiend](https://twitter.com/fiendishpal/status/1360665485117775873?s=20), and [Icky](https://twitter.com/ickypea/status/1360701926279704582?s=21)! Please go check out their amazing artwork of Bokuto and Akaashi's beautiful babies.
> 
> This fic goes out to the babie gang - RT, Jen, and Bo <3

Koutarou was at practice when his phone rang. He finished the rally and hurried to the bench to check it. Coach Foster had been nice enough to allow him to keep it out — he had to, or Koutarou wouldn’t focus — but he called after him, “Be quick, unless—”

“I know!”

 _Unless it was about the baby_. It wouldn’t be, Koutarou told himself. The due date was two weeks away. It was probably his dentist telling him he was due for a check-up, or a scam call, or—

It was Keiji, a picture of him and Koutarou cutting their wedding cake on screen. And Keiji never called unless it was serious.

Koutarou picked up on the last ring. “Babe?” He could hear Keiji breathing. “What’s going on?”

“Izumi’s in labour,” Keiji said.

Koutarou’s heart fell through the floor. “What!?”

“We’re on our way to the hospital now. It’s— it’s really happening, Kou—”

“But you’re still in Tokyo, aren’t you!?”  
“Yes, so please get on a train.” A female voice interrupted, saying something to Keiji that Koutarou couldn’t hear. “Izumi wants me to tell you not to worry, because, and I’m quoting her, ‘she’ll hold the baby in as long as she can before it meets you and never knows peace again.’”

“Hey! Tell Izumi that—”

“How about you tell her yourself when you get here?”

“Right.” Koutarou ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be on the next train.”

“Good. Please text me when you’re on your way.” He paused. “I love you, Kou.”

“Love you too.” Koutarou hung up the phone. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Well!?” Inunaki yelled.

Koutarou turned. Everyone was staring at him.

“The baby’s coming,” he said weakly. The team erupted into cheers, Hinata’s the loudest of all. “I— Coach, I have to go!”

“Go,” Coach Foster told him, “and good luck.”

Koutarou changed as fast as he could, not bothering to shower, and called a cab. The ride to the station was maddening; traffic was so bad he got out two blocks from the station and travelled the rest of the way on foot. He was panting by the time he reached the ticket counter.

He checked the time. The next train was in five minutes. “One ticket for the 12:30 to Tokyo, please.”

The cashier raised an eyebrow. “It’s already boarding, sir. I don’t think you’re going to make it.”

“Just let me try!”

She gave him a look. “No refunds.”

“Please,” Koutarou begged.

“Fine.” She rang up the ticket. “Platform 7.”

Koutarou ran.

Luckily, he didn’t have a bag to carry — he hadn’t brought anything but his phone and wallet — or he wouldn’t have made it. As it was, he reached the platform just as they were pulling up the staircases.

“Please let me on!” Koutarou yelled to the nearest attendant. He was still running. “Sorry I’m late, please!”

“Sir—”

“My baby is being born! My baby— In Tokyo—” He ran out of breath.

The attendant pursed his lips. “Alright, come on.” 

Koutarou didn’t wait for the staircase. He jumped into the train’s raised doorway, apologizing again when he landed nearly in the attendant’s lap. The attendant recovered and showed him to his seat.

Koutarou sank down into it, put his head on the tray table, and burst into tears.

*

“You’re sure it’s alright?” Keiji asked on the doorstep.

“I told you it’s fine. You’ve met Meian-san before. He liked you!”

“I know, but—”

“It’s fine,” Koutarou said again, more firmly. He understood why Keiji was nervous — it was his first time at a team function as Koutarou’s _husband_ — but he knew it would be okay. If the Jackals hadn’t been supportive of him, Koutarou would have gotten himself traded a long time ago.

The door opened, revealing Meian Shuugo in shorts and a tank top. “Am I interrupting?”

“Nope!” Koutarou dragged Keiji inside, clapping Meian on the back as he passed him. “I missed you!” Koutarou hadn’t seen much of him in the off-season.

Meian snorted. “Me too, Bokkun.” He nodded to Keiji. “Akaashi-kun, nice to see you, too. It’s been a while.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Keiji mumbled.

“No intrusion at all. You’re always welcome here, both of you.” Keiji frowned. “What, did you think the door was soundproof? Anyway, everyone’s out back. Find Atsumu if you want beer.”

They made their way to the backyard. Meian lived outside Osaka in a big, old house decorated by his wife Natasha, who was something of a celebrity designer. She was gorgeous, too, enough to put Haiba Alisa to shame. She waved at Koutarou and Keiji as they entered the yard, making both of them blush.

“Fu-kurou-dani!” Atsumu shouted from a lawn chair. His entire face was flushed red. Koutarou saluted him.

“Akaashi-san!” Hinata stumbled into view, pulling Keiji into a hug.

“Hinata, you smell like a bar,” Keiji said. “Didn’t they teach you to hold your liquor in Brazil?”

“I guess not!” He grinned at Atsumu, both of them dissolving into giggles. “Hey, set for me, Akaashi-san!” There was a net set up on the grass; a few of their teammates were lazily setting back and forth.

“Maybe later, when you can stand up straight.” Keiji and Koutarou got their own chairs and sat down. ”Hello, Sakusa-kun.”

Sakusa sat a safe distance away from Atsumu and Hinata, staring at his phone. “Bokuto. Akaashi.” From him, it was a warm welcome. He had never quite forgiven Keiji for Itachiyama’s loss to Fukuroudani at Nationals in their third year.

Atsumu graciously shared his hoard of drinks with them as they caught up on the last few months of each other’s lives. Hinata told them what they’d missed in Osaka over the summer; Koutarou told the team about his and Keiji’s wedding.

“Still can’t fuckin’ believe ya didn’t invite us,” Atsumu whined.

“It was a small ceremony!” Koutarou said, for what felt like the millionth time. “Seriously, there are more people here today than were there.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu was in no mood to be placated right now.

The more they talked — and drank — the more relaxed Keiji looked. Koutarou decided that he’d drive home and let Keiji enjoy himself. 

He was about to tell him so when a new member joined their group. She was about a metre tall and platinum blonde like her mother: Aia, the Meians’ daughter.

She stood in front of Keiji, hands on her hips. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I don’t know you.” Her tone turned it into an accusation.

“That is accurate,” Keiji said.

“Do you play volleyball?”

“Um, kind of—”

“Play with me,” she demanded. 

Keiji looked at Koutarou, who shrugged. “Alright. But you need more than two people to play.”

“I’ll play!” Hinata jumped to his feet. “We can do three-on-three!” It didn’t seem to occur to him that Aia was four years old.

“Make it two-on-two,” Sakusa said. “I’m not playing, and I think Atsumu’s dead.”

“‘M not dead, Omi-kun,” Atsumu mumbled, but he was half-asleep and made no move to get up.

“Guess I’ll be number four, then!” Koutarou said. “Get it? ‘Cause I’m the ace?”

“We get it, Kou,” Keiji said gently.

They took over the court and lowered the net to the ground for Aia. Koutarou figured Hinata and Keiji would pair up so Keiji could set for him, but Aia clung to Keiji and refused to give him up. He threw her ball after ball, Hinata and Koutarou executing increasingly dramatic dives to pick them up. Her technique was to catch the ball and throw it at them, which was effective, but would definitely get her a penalty for holding in an official game. Keiji told her this, and she responded by blowing a raspberry at him. To Koutarou’s surprise, Keiji blew one back.

It was nice to see him like this. Koutarou had been an uncle since high school, but as an only child, Keiji didn’t deal with kids much. He was good with them, as Koutarou knew he would be.

He was trying to think of a way to bring it up when they got in the car. Keiji turned to him in the passenger seat, looking determined.

He surged forward and kissed Koutarou, sloppier than usual and with quite a bit of tongue. But when he pulled back, his face was set.

“We should have a baby,” he said.

Koutarou grinned. “I was just going to say that.”

*

Keiji was waiting for Koutarou outside the main entrance of the hospital. Koutarou threw himself into his arms. “I didn’t miss it, did I?”

“No.” Keiji held him tightly. “Not even close.”

“Is she okay?” Koutarou asked. “Is she alone?”

“Your parents are with her.” Keiji gave Koutarou a once-over. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah! I’m just, you know— ah!” It was the best description he could give. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

“Me too,” Keiji said. He, on the other hand, looked completely calm. No one but Koutarou would have seen the nerves. “Come on, Onee-san’s waiting.”

*

“Koutarou-oji-san!”

“Hey guys!” Koutarou dropped to the floor to hug his niece and nephew.

“Did you bring us presents?” the boy, Yamato, asked.

“Yamato!” His father, Dai, came into the hallway behind them. “Don’t ask him that. It’s rude.”

“Sorry!” Yamato bowed so deeply he almost fell over.

Koutarou ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, buddy! Besides” — he lowered his voice to a whisper — “I think Keiji-oji-san actually did bring you both something.”

Yamato and his sister Junko’s eyes went wide as Keiji produced two manga magazines, one for each of them. “These are early editions,” he explained. “So don’t show your friends until at least next week.”

“Okay!”

“Go read those in your room,” Dai told them. “I’ll call you for dinner.” To Keiji and Koutarou, he said, “Come on in. Izumi’s making tea.”

Bokuto Izumi was four years older than Koutarou and thirty centimetres shorter, but they shared the same wild hair and vivacious attitude. She was loud where her boyfriend, Dai, was quiet, and Koutarou often found himself thinking of Dai as Izumi’s Keiji.

She set the tea tray down and joined them at the table. “So,” she said, “what did you want to ask me?” Koutarou balked. He had told her on the phone he needed to talk about something serious, but he didn’t expect her to jump right in.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not dying, are you?”

“No!”

“Good. A coffin for someone as huge as you would be expensive.”

“Nee-chan!”

“Oh, calm down.” She turned to Keiji. “Can you just tell me? It’ll take him forever to get it out.”

“Right,” Keiji said. Koutarou scowled; he hated when they teamed up on him. “Well, to sum it up: we want to have a baby and we were hoping you could carry it for us.”

Izumi pursed her lips, thinking. “Okay!”

“What!?” Koutarou shouted. “You can’t agree just like that!” This was too much for his heart to take.

“Why not?” Izumi said. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. I assumed you’d ask eventually. I mean, Sora’s not gonna do it, and you gotta get the Bokuto genes from somewhere, right?”

“That was the idea, yes,” Keiji said, though he looked a little shocked.

“Honey,” Dai said. “I think you’re scaring them.”

“They should be used it by now— oh, Kou, stop crying!”

Koutarou couldn’t help it. They were going to have a baby! He excused himself to blow his nose loudly in the bathroom.

Once he returned, they hammered out the details.

“How do you wanna do this?” Izumi asked. “I know a doctor who could probably do it on the down low.”

“Why do you know someone like that?” Koutarou asked. Izumi and Dai were carpenters, not members of the Yakuza.

Izumi shrugged. “I know lots of people.”

“As enticing as that sounds,” Keiji said, “we found an IVF clinic in Vancouver that can accomodate us, although the waitlist is rather long. Hopefully, given that you obviously don’t have any fertility issues, it won’t take more than one treatment.”

“If not, we can whip out the old turkey baster, right?” Izumi said. Only Dai laughed. “Okay, fine, we’ll go to Canada.”

Koutarou didn’t understand how they could be so glib about this. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ll have to be pregnant again, take time off work, and since I can’t— um, I can’t adopt the baby, you and Keiji will have to do all the legal stuff—”

“Kou,” Izumi interrupted. “I know how much work it is to have a baby. I’ve had two. This is something I want to do for you. And the baby will be yours and Keiji’s, no one else’s.”

Koutarou sniffled. “Thanks, nee-chan. That’s really— um—”

“Holy shit,” Izumi said. “Koutarou’s actually thanking me for something! Dai, get the camera!”

“I hate you,” Koutarou mumbled through his tears.

*

“Two centimetres? That’s it? But that’s like this!” Koutarou held up his fingers in an approximation.

“It’s actually more like this,” Keiji said, squishing them together.

“That’s what the doctor said.” Izumi lay back in her hospital bed, looking far too comfortable for someone in labour.

“I was on the train for three hours!” Koutarou said. “You were the one who said ‘cause it’s your third baby it was ‘going to walk right out of you!’”

“I mean, it is two weeks early,” Izumi said. “Guess it’s as good at keeping track of time as you are.”

Keiji laughed. “Don’t laugh at her!’ Koutarou yelped.

“Sorry,” Keiji said, still laughing.

“Geez, Kou, calm down. I feel fine, the baby’s fine— this is just gonna take a while. Why don’t you go say hi to Okaa-san and Otou-san and give me a rest, okay?”

“That’s a great idea,” Keiji said. “Come on.”

They were halfway to the waiting room when Koutarou’s phone went off. He pulled it out. He had eight new notifications from Twitter.

“What’s going on?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou skimmed them. _Shit._ “Uh, someone retweeted the article again. They said some… not-so-nice stuff.” He knew better than to give Keiji specifics. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

Koutarou looked around. There were a few people in the hallway, but no one was paying them any attention. He grabbed Keiji and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Yep,” he said. “It’s fine.”

*

_“Despite a good showing from the Green Rockets, the Black Jackals took the match in four sets. Setter Miya Atsumu was in especially good form, sending perfect tosses to hitters Bokuto and Hinata…”_

Keiji let the recap finish, pausing when the announcer switched to basketball. “Again?”

“Nah.” Koutarou yawned. They’d watched it three times already. “We should sleep.”

“Alright.” Keiji put his phone and glasses on the nightstand and turned out the light, curling into Kou’s side. “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Have you given any more thought to what you want to tell the press?” 

Koutarou didn’t need to ask what he meant. Izumi was four months pregnant, and soon, he’d have to explain how he suddenly acquired a baby. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I still think we should just tell them the truth.”

He felt Keiji sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am. The only reason I haven’t yet is ‘cause you don’t want to, and the only reason you don’t want to is ‘cause you’re worried about how it’ll affect me, right?”

“Right,” Keiji admitted.

“Then let’s tell them.” Koutarou didn’t want to hide who he was. He wanted to be brave, for Keiji and for the baby.

He called Kuroo the next morning for help setting up an interview, mostly because he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he excluded him. He was also hoping Kuroo could get Taketora’s sister to interview him, since Koutarou already knew her a little. But she was busy with school, so Kuroo recommended another journalist.

The journalist was nice, and the interview went well. They talked about his and Keiji’s wedding, the baby, whether or not the team had been supportive (they had). She even got a quote from Coach Foster to use. Koutarou went home feeling satisfied and relieved he hadn’t said anything stupid.

He was not expecting to wake up to Kuroo yelling in his ear through the phone a week later.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Kuroo said. “This is not what was supposed to happen! My boss is flipping out—”

“Mmf?” Koutarou said, his voice heavy with sleep. “Flipping out about what?”

“The article,” Kuroo said. “Your coming-out article.”

Koutarou put the phone on speaker, though he was pretty sure Keiji could hear Kuroo anyway. He grabbed his laptop and opened it up.

“I am going to make them apologize personally,” Kuroo continued, “and obviously they’ll never work with us again. This is such bullshit. They said they wanted a ‘balanced opinion.’ This is not fucking balanced—”

“Kuroo, I’ll call you back,” Koutarou said. He couldn’t listen to him and read at the same time.

The headline wasn’t promising: _Volleyball Ace and Olympian Comes Out to Mixed Feelings in the Sports Community._ He and Keiji shared a look before reading further.

The beginning was what he expected: his biography, a bit of background on Keiji and the baby. The paragraph ended with the quote from Coach Foster: _“Bokuto is a talented spiker and a valued member of this team. Off the court, he is a wonderful person, and I am honoured to have him, his husband, and their child in the Black Jackal family.”_

 _But not everyone’s reaction has been positive,_ the article continued. _“It’s unfortunate,” said Satou Yuusuke, head of the Olympic Volleyball Committee. “He’s a talented guy, so this is really unfortunate news.” Satou’s sentiments were echoed online by Black Jackals fans. Twitter user BlxckJxckxls wrote: “guess I need to find a new team to support… no more #MSBYBlackJackals for me!”_

The last paragraph talked about other gay athletes in Japan, citing the number of out athletes who competed in the 2016 Olympics: fifty-six, out of eleven thousand, two-hundred and thirty eight.

Koutarou felt numb. He really hadn’t expected this. He probably should have — Keiji certainly did — but he didn’t.

Keiji jumped out of bed, pulling pants on with nothing underneath. “Are you going somewhere?” Koutarou asked.

Keiji spun around. The look in his eyes was lethal. 

“I am going,” he said, “to those assholes’ office to give them a piece of my mind. ‘Balanced opinion’— fuck off. It was supposed to be a puff piece!” He tried, and failed, to zip up his pants. “And then, I’m going to write my own article—”

“Keiji.”

“Kou, don’t try to— why are you laughing!?”

It was mostly Keiji’s appearance, glasses askew, bare ass peeking out of jeans he still couldn’t zip properly. But it was also just that he felt like laughing. “Keiji, come here.”

He tried to resist Koutarou pulling him back to bed. “This isn’t funny—”

“It’s not funny at all,” Koutarou agreed, “but you are.” He leaned over Keiji on the bed, trapping him with his arms.

“That article sucks. Like, majorly. But you know what would suck even more?” Keiji shook his head. “Not being with you. So let’s just go back to sleep, okay?”

Keiji’s expression softened. “And make Kuroo-san deal with this alone?”

“Eh,” Koutarou said. “He’ll be fine.”

*

They found their party in the waiting room: Koutarou’s parents and his oldest sister, Sora, Keiji’s mother, and Kuroo himself, carrying two balloons that said ‘Congratulations on becoming a Daddy!’

“One’s from me, one’s from Kenma,” he said.

Sora rolled her eyes. “Lovely.” She, unlike her siblings, had black hair, and she wore a suit, having come straight from her law firm. Kuroo deflated at her comment; he’d been trying to earn her approval since high school, to no avail.

“Still no baby yet?” Koutarou’s mother asked.

“Nope.”

“Don’t pout about it, Kou.”

“I’m not pouting!” He definitely was.

“Did Otou-san get a flight?” Keiji asked his mother.

“Yes, but he won’t be here until late tonight.” He was on a business trip in Hokkaido. “I told him it was too close to the birth for a trip!”

“It’s okay,” Keiji said. “I don’t think the baby will miss him in their first few hours of life.”

“‘Their?’” Koutaoru’s mother asked. “So you really never found out the sex?”

 _“No,_ Okaa-san,” Koutarou said. “We didn’t want to know! Izumi knows, though, ‘cause she was nosy, so you can ask her.”

“She did,” his father said. “Izumi refused to tell her in case she blabbed to you.”

“Wow, Izumi did something smart for once.”

“Sora!”

Koutarou’s family started arguing; Kuroo asked where the bathroom was. While Keiji showed him, his mother pulled Koutarou aside.

“Koutarou-kun, you’re looking well.”

“Thank you,” he said. “So are you, Akaashi-san!”

“You’re as charming as ever.” She glanced at her son. “Is he alright?”

“Yes, I think so,” Koutarou said.

“Not stressing himself out too much?”

“No. Well, I mean, he’s still _Keiji,_ you know?” She nodded. “But he’s doing better now.”

“Good,” she said. “Very good.”

*

“I’m sorry,” Keiji said as soon as he got in the car.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t asleep anyway.”

Keiji had missed his usual train from Tokyo, and, by the time he got back, the Osaka Metro was no longer running. Hence Koutarou picking him up in his pajamas at one in the morning.

“I know, but you have practice tomorrow—”

“It’s okay.” Koutarou pulled slowly out of the deserted parking lot. It was March, but there was snow on the ground, and he needed to drive carefully.

Keiji sighed. “I can tell you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Koutarou said honestly.

“Disappointed, then.”

“Worried,” Koutarou corrected.

“I told you not to worry about me.”

“Okay.”

Koutarou was tired of having this fight with him.

When they decided to have a baby, they had come to the agreement that Keiji would move to Osaka permanently. Koutarou couldn’t leave, and Keiji’s company had an office there and had promised him a transfer. But six months into Izumi’s pregnancy, the only position they had available in Osaka was for an assistant, a huge demotion from what Keiji did in Tokyo. So they made him an offer: he could keep his current job, work two twelve-hour days a week in Tokyo, and do the rest of his work remotely. He could schedule the days he needed to be in the office around Koutarou’s away games so one of them would always be with the baby, even if they didn’t see each other very often.

Koutarou had laughed when Keiji told him. He stopped laughing when Keiji said, “I think I’m going to do it.”

Now, Keiji leaned against the frozen window, eyes closed. “You still think I should take the Osaka job, don’t you?”

That had been what Koutarou wanted, and the two of them had gotten into several arguments about it, the worst since they started dating as teenagers. But he’d come up with another idea. “Actually, I think you should quit.”

Keiji’s eyes snapped open. “What!?”

“Well, I mean—” Koutarou was nervous; he hadn’t said anything about this to Keiji yet. “Work’s making you miserable, isn’t it? You’re always so tired, and that’s just gonna get worse when the baby comes. And this wasn’t even the job you wanted in the first place—”

“We can’t all have our dream jobs like you, Kou,” Keiji scoffed.

“But you could have a job you like more than this one,” Koutarou countered. “I think… I think you’re afraid that quitting would make you a failure, but it wouldn’t—”

“So I should just be your househusband and not have a career of my own?”

“You could, if that’s what you wanted.” Koutarou turned a corner. “But I thought maybe you could try writing again.”

Keiji let out a bitter laugh. “So not a househusband, but an out-of-work writer.”

“You always think so badly of yourself,” Koutarou said. “Why do you think you’ve failed before you’ve tried?”

Keiji huffed at him, but didn’t say anything. He closed his eyes again. Koutarou let it go. Keiji could be stubborn.

His eyes were still closed when Koutarou parked in their building’s garage, but his lashes were wet.

“Come on,” Koutarou said. “You need sleep.”

They made their way upstairs quietly, Keiji barely getting his suit off before collapsing on the bed. Koutarou followed, tucking him in and turning out the light.

“What if I do fail, though?” Keiji said to the darkness.

“Then you can try again. Or try something else.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on you. Or the baby.”

“You won’t be,” Koutarou assured him. “The baby needs _you_ more than it needs your money.” He paused. “And I need you here, too.”

Keiji exhaled slowly, his chest falling. “Okay. I’ll quit.”

“Are you sure?” Koutarou asked. “It’s a big decision— ow!” Keiji had smacked his ass under the blanket. “I was just checking!”

“Mm, I know.” He snuggled closer, wrapping himself around Koutarou’s back. “When did you get so sensible, Bokuto-san?”

Keiji must have been tired, to call him that. “Hey, I’ve always been sensible,” Koutarou said. “I married you, didn’t I?”

*

After six agonizing hours in the waiting room, it was time for Izumi to push. Koutarou had paced so much he was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole in the floor.

“They’re asking for the father to come in,” Dai said. He had arrived after dropping Yamato and Junko at daycare and taken the last shift in Izumi’s room. “The doctor seemed a little confused that I wasn’t him. I told him to expect both of them shortly.”

Keiji looked at Koutarou. “This is it.”

“Yep.”

“Good luck you two,” Keiji’s mother said.

“Try not to faint,” Koutarou’s mother added, “or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Hey,” his father said. “I only fainted for Sora, not the other two.”

“Still.”

“Kuroo-kun,” Sora said, “are you crying?”

“No! Definitely not!”

Koutarou, so fitful a moment ago, felt rooted to the floor. Keiji took his hand and pulled him down the hall. A nurse was waiting to show them to a room where they could scrub their hands and put on masks.

“Are you okay?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou nodded. “Um, yeah.”

Keiji put his mask on. “Hey, look at me.” He flipped his hair to one side. “I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi. I’m in love with Atsumu even though I act like I hate him!” His face fell when Koutarou didn’t laugh. “Bad impression?”

“No, it was great, actually.”

“Then what’s wrong? Are you freaking out?”

“Kind of,” Koutarou admitted.

Keiji took his hand again. “Me too. But it’ll be okay. I meant what I said last week: this kid is going to adore you. Even more than I do.”

Koutarou closed his eyes and took a breath, feeling the warmth of Keiji’s hand. He gave a shaky laugh. “Guess it’s gonna be pretty obsessed with me, then, huh?!”

“Sure,” Keiji said. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

*

_Attach F and G to AB with screws J and K. Secure with 2. Attach C with dowels H and washers I. Flip over to attach D._

Koutarou had followed the instructions to the letter (literally), and yet, when he got to the last step and flipped the crib over, there was no place to attach D. D didn’t fit, and when he let go, the entire crib fell on its side.

A quick inspection told Koutarou why: the legs were on upside-down.

Not included in the instructions: throwing the wrench on the floor and curling up in a ball in the corner, because if he couldn’t put together an IKEA crib properly, how the hell was he going to raise a child?

Keiji found him there an hour later, face streaked with tears and hair pulled into bunches. He squished into the corner beside him.

“Is something wrong?”

“I fucked up the crib,” Koutarou said.

“Ah.” Keiji titled his head. “I think I can fix it.”

“No, I’ll do it. I know what I did wrong.”

“If you’ve figured it out, why do you still look so sad?”

Koutarou pressed his face into his knees. “Because what if I do this to the baby?” He looked up at Keiji; he was so strong, so… defined around the edges, in a way Koutarou was not. “What if I give them the wrong food, or drop them, or they get sick and I don’t notice until—” His breath sped up.

“Hey, Kou—”

“I just feel like I’m going to screw something up,” he said.

Keiji reached over, rubbing his back. “You probably will,” he said. Koutarou’s head flew up. “We both will probably mess lots of things up. But like you said, we’ll figure out how to fix them. Both of us, not you alone.”

“Right,” Koutarou mumbled.

Keiji frowned. “Is there something else?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Koutarou whined. “It’s stupid.”

“So?”

Koutarou turned back to his knees. “What if they like you more than me? Because you’re… you know, their real dad?”

“You’re right,” Keiji said. “That is stupid.”

“That’s why I didn’t—”

“No, listen. It’s wrong of you to think that a child with my genes would be predisposed to like me more because we share DNA. If anything, a child with my DNA should like _you_ more, given that I have never loved anyone even a fraction of as much as I love you. Any child of mine will be a natural at loving you, Koutarou.”

Koutarou felt his shoulders relax. Keiji always knew exactly the right thing to say to him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Keiji said softly. “Can I tell you a secret that is also stupid?”

“Sure.”

“I was kind of hoping this would happen.”

“What?”

“This. You freaking out, going into emo mode.”

“You were hoping I’d be upset?” Keiji nodded. “Why?!”

“Because I’ve been panicking for weeks and you’ve been so calm it’s scary! I thought I was the only one worrying about this!”

Koutarou shook his head. “That’s not a good reason!”

“Well, an upside-down crib isn’t a good reason to sit in the corner, either.”

Koutarou had to give him that one. “I am worried,” he said. “Even if I don’t go into emo mode. But I’m excited, too, you know?”

“I know,” Keiji said. “I am too.” He glanced over at the source of the stress. “You wanna fix the crib together?”

“We could,” Koutarou said, “or…” He grabbed Keiji and threw him on the bed — _their_ bed. His shirt pulled up, and Koutarou’s lips found their way to his stomach.

“Kou!”

“What!? We’re gonna be parents soon. We’ve got to take advantage of an empty room while we can.”

*

Bokuto Izuka was born without complications at 8:42 p.m. on August seventeenth, 2021, 3.1 kg. Despite a long labour, the final push was quick, and Izuka announced her entry to the world with a loud cry. “Wow,” Izumi muttered, her face drenched in sweat, “she sounds exactly like you, Kou.” Koutarou would have complained had she not just given him a baby.

He and Keiji cut the umbilical cord together in a smooth movement they had been practising for months. After a quick check to make sure Izuka was healthy, the doctor turned to them.

“Who’s going to hold her first?”

Koutarou realized Izumi and Keiji were both looking at him. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Izumi said.

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” Keiji said. He wondered if they had discussed this without him.

A nurse brought chairs to the side of the bed, and before Koutarou could prepare himself, he was holding his baby in his arms. 

She was so small! There were guys on the team with biceps bigger than her whole body. Kuroo and Kenma’s cat was bigger than her. A volleyball was bigger than her! It should probably have been illegal, being that small.

Izumi, leaning over the edge of the bed, stated the obvious: “She looks exactly like Keiji.”

Koutarou nodded. Izuka had hair already — on her tiny head! — and it was pure black. Her expression was also Keiji’s, the same disgruntled look he wore when he was editing.

Right now, his expression was one of awe. “You really think she looks like me?” He reached out to wipe some gunk off her forehead.

“Definitely,” Koutarou said, “she—”

Izuka stopped her father short by opening her eyes.

“Oh, wow,” Izumi said. “Kou, look—”

Koutarou didn’t hear what she said next; all he could focus on was his baby’s eyes. They were not the deep green of Keiji’s or Izumi’s dark brown, but his own golden yellow reflecting back at him. She blinked at him, then at Keiji, taking her first look at the world.

“Oh my god,” Koutarou whispered. “You’re perfect.”

For the second time that day, he started to sob.

*

**Epilogue: Ten Years Earlier**

“Hey, Akaashi, do you wanna have kids?”

They were in Keiji’s classroom. Outside, it was late summer, the sun warming them through the windows. “I’d like to finish my English homework, actually, but you keep talking,” Keiji said.

“Geh! I didn’t mean right now! I meant, like, in the future.” Koutarou gesticulated with his hot dog, spraying mustard onto Keiji’s notebook. Keiji leered at him.

“I bet you’d be really good at it,” Koutarou continued. “You’re good at scolding people!”

“I think you need other attributes to be a good parent besides being a disciplinarian.” Keiji used such big words sometimes. And so many of them! Koutarou found it impressive, and kinda hot.

Keiji pushed his homework aside. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he said, “but sure, I would like to have children one day. Kids can be fun. Some of them.”

“I bet your kid would be really smart,” Koutarou said.

“And yours would be excellent at volleyball.”

“I hope so— hey, wait, are you insulting me!?”

“No, Bokuto-san, I meant it innocently.” That Koutarou didn’t totally believe. “What about you? Do you want children?”

“Yeah, definitely!” Koutarou said. “Like, at least four!”

“I pity your future spouse.”

“Mean, Akaashi.” Koutarou took a bite of his hot dog. “I’ll probably be kind of bad at being a dad, though, right? ‘Cause I never take things seriously, and I forget a lot of stuff…” He swallowed sadly. He couldn’t remember now why he had brought this up.

“I don’t think you will be bad at it, actually,” Keiji said. He smiled, and Koutarou thought it was even brighter than the sun outside. “I think you’ll do just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com!


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